


Incendies

by Veelez (Hyela)



Category: Dystopia (Richard Christian Matheson), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:53:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyela/pseuds/Veelez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summer heat in California makes the wicked do bad things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incendies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [homoeroticismforthewin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/homoeroticismforthewin/gifts).



> Kate/Derek  
> Rated M for Violence, murder  
> Alternative Canon: Kate brings Derek down a path of crime. Based off a short story by Richard Christian Matheson (Hell)

_August. 2:13 a.m._  
 _L.A. was turning on a spit and teenagers were out in cars everywhere, cooking alive, tortured. The insanity of summer sauna made the city grow wet and irritable, and blood bubbled at a sluggish boil in the flesh. Animals slept deeply, too hot to move, fur smelling of moist lethargy. Chewing gum came to life on sidewalks, like one-celled creatures growing in the heat, and the glow of fires created arsonist sunsets on the foothills which rimmed the city._  
~Richard Christian Matheson, Hell (published in Dystopia)

  
They’ve been in L.A. for a little less than a week. They travelled from Beacon Hills by the interstate 5, eating and sleeping in shitty motels whenever they wanted to, stopping for gas or a quickie once in a while. They lazily made their way down to a city that never slept. Mostly, they lived at night, so it only seemed appropriate.  
Derek still could not believed that he ran away from everything. From school, from his family, from any sense of duty that came with being part of a community of werewolves. Abandoning the comfort of rules and routines to become an omega, a pariah. He went to great lengths to make it work too, even camouflaging his own smell so no one could trace him.

  
He felt vaguely guilty the first few times his cellphone rang, but Kate tossed it out the window of the Chevy Camaro around Santa Clarita, and he did not think about turning back again. The payphones outside the gas stations didn’t tempt him either. For the first time in his life, he was determined. Determined to feel free and liberated.

  
Kate did that. She brought him freedom.

  
This was a bit ironic, considering Kate happened to be a hunter, and had planned to kill him and his whole family after seducing him and deducing he was a werewolf. He didn’t know why she changed her mind. He didn’t know how she had changed her mind: he had been raised to believe that hunters were stubborn, ruthless and intransigent, which was in fact true of Kate Argent. She had half the personality of a sociopath. A fine, cunning manipulator, she could have had her way and get away with murder if she had wanted to, and there was nothing he could have done about it. She’d have left, hands bloodied, without a care in the world. He was supposed to be the predator, but he had been as helplessly unthinking as the meekest prey.

  
Still, Kate represented freedom to him. She was a force of nature, always in control and dictating her way around all the while appearing like a sweet blessing to most people. She was not a pawn for her family; she was a hunter because she chose to be. She was not a mindless bigot either; she just liked to hunt. Which was understandable. Derek did too.

  
The pair of them were social outcasts, fitting nowhere in society, lonely but holding on strong. Obviously, Derek was a little less experienced, and apparently a lot more naive still, but he’d learn. He’d be the Clyde to her Bonnie, or whatever she’ll want him to be, as long as she could make him feel high on this intense feeling of flying through the world, attached to nothing but her.

  
L.A., this time of the year, was a furnace. Living beings were catching fire from the inside, a crazed, boiling thirst transparent in their eyes. The smell of sweat was sticking to everything, salty and sour, the wetness being irritating from sight. The whole city was stuck in a state of lethargy despite being restless, the heat weighting on them, paralysing.

  
It was the same for Kate, whose beautiful blonde hair got messy in an instant, sticking to her sweaty forehead and to her neck. She was in a constant state of excitation, wanting to get out and to stay in at the same time; feeling like punching someone in the face and fucking for hours at the same time. Needless to say, the confusion made her tired and cranky.

  
Being a werewolf, Derek had it even worst. All of his senses were ablaze and the desperation of the millions of people around was affecting him, as if their collective bad mood was rinsing off him in huge waves of anger and nervousness. He hadn’t been able to sleep the previous day and still wasn’t sleeping at night, kept await by the hellish temperature.

  
So, that night, they decided to go out in hope of finding something to do that would appease their burning nerves, if only for a while. They finally opted for the Universal City Overlook, since apparently it was not a thing to miss if you ever went to Hollywood. The view had to be fantastic, the electric city breaking the night before them.

  
They drove in an oppressive silence, too apathetic to hold a conversation, before Kate moodily turned on the radio. Some strange-sounding man was on the air, his voice deep and throaty.

  
“Here’s a track the needle loves to lick. Mick and the boys given’ us some sympathy for a bad man. In case you’re wonderin’ about L.A.’s needle... it’s in the red, babies. Hundred and two in the dark. I feel hot... how ‘bout you?”

  
Kate laughed while the beat of Sympathy for the Devil started to resonate in the car, the two songs not unfitting with each other. She turned up the volume. Derek smiled at her sudden enthusiasm and turned on Mulholland Drive, speeding up.

  
Kate’s tastes in music was vast, but she had a distinct preference for anything that was dark, sensual, speaking about men’s inner beasts. That suited him just fine as it seemed to reinforce the attraction she felt for him.

  
Nevertheless, she wasn’t looking at him as she banged her head to the rhythm of the song. He didn’t bring her the comfort she needed just yet and he felt her bubble tightened around her, keeping her distant and irritable, unwilling to give him attention for the moment. It was understandable, as the heat was getting worse by the minute, but that still had to change. The more he spent time with Kate, the more Derek wanted to revel in her approval. She caught on that fact pretty quickly, and now, when she felt bored, she ignored him until he found some way of entertaining her, after what she rewarded him. With herself.

  
The song came to an end and the deep-voice DJ was back on air, staining the afterglow of the music with his drawl. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.

  
“Hope you’re with the one who makes you get hideous out there. Temperature... a hundred and two and a half. How ‘bout some Doors? ‘Back Door Man, ‘summer of ‘69. Where were you? And... who were you tormenting?”

  
“Aww. I wish I was born in time to live the sixties!” exclaimed Kate, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. “I would have fit just right in, I think.”

  
“Most certainly,” answered Derek drily, “Era of rebellion, violence and revolution. It’d have fitted you like a glove. I can easily picture you as a hippy, flowers in the hair and dope in the lungs.”

  
Kate smiled and swatted him on the shoulder, still not looking at him. “Hippy, I don’t know, but some kind of violent activist, sure. Direct confrontation with the authorities, the feeling of being different and assuming it instead of hiding it, all of that with awesome music in the background. Nowadays, everything has lost its identity, its purpose and its drive.” She wiped the sweat off her brows and sighed heavily.

  
“I didn’t think you needed those,” inquired Derek, surprised, “You always seemed to unravel in... well, in the randomness.”

  
“Oh, I do, but it’s no fun when everyone else does. I don’t feel free in an exploded world drifting and wasting away, almost accepting whatever shit coming its way. I feel like I’m a dime a dozen, like I should always do more.”

  
“I thought you loved a challenge.”

  
“That’s not a challenge. It’s whoring for attention in a place where no one will give it to you.” Kate spat. She shook her head, getting moody again. They entered the path to go on Mulholland view area. Another car, some huge, old Chrysler, was following them.

  
“You don’t get it because it hasn’t hit you on the head yet, but it will.” Kate added, her tone stabbing the air like a knife. It didn’t hurt Derek anymore when she used it on him. It had nothing to do with him.

  
“Basically, you’re having a weird sort of existential crisis.”

  
“That’s right, but in my book, living is a crisis in itself. Especially today. It’s like Hell on Earth, but even us demons are affected by the heat. Unbearable! Like we have time to waste... Goddammit!”

  
Derek nodded in agreement and he saw her roll her eyes. Everything was getting on her nerves. She calmed down a bit when the Chrysler following them started to pass them. She took the wheel in one hand and turned it abruptly, blocking the other car. The Camaro made a sound like a protest, but Derek didn’t lose the control. Kate laughed as the strangers beeped them and Derek, whose heart was beating faster, joined in and beeped them back.

  
“Accelerate. Let’s race these fuckers.” Kate ordered suavely.

  
He did what he was told and the other car seemed to get with the program, speeding up, almost bumping into them. Derek crushed the gas pedal under his foot. Kate grinned, delighted, and turned up the volume as he tried to stay ahead of the daring other car. They went up, and up, making their way to the view area, Kate laughing and him concentrating on winning. He did.

  
“Another knifing downtown. Simply Blues Bar.” drawled the DJ with an exaggerated depressed toned, just before yawning. He then drank and gulped, making sure to be heard, no doubt to inspire jealousy. “Some people just shouldn’t drink. Let’s get back with the Doors.” Or enable sarcasm.

  
Derek’s mouth was dry and furred. He swallowed uneasily as he parked the car behind a small yellow rabbit. When the Music’s Over started blasting. There was already another car on the rabbit’s left, heavy metal pumping from it, and their valiant challenger had stationed itself on its right. Derek noted with amusement that the small vehicle was completely trapped. And it was a rabbit. He snorted.

  
Kate caught on the joke and giggled while venting her face with her hand (not that it would be very effective). “Oh, look, the little prey is starting to panic!”  
Effectively, Derek could see the woman in the rabbit trying to open her doors, without success of course, and soon they could hear her yell at the other drivers to move their cars. None of them listened to her. Derek couldn’t see them since, much like the Camaro, the other cars had tinted glasses. Still, he felt some sort of kinship towards the strangers. He nudged Kate.

  
“Wolves usually hunt in a pack,” he said, energy bubbling through him as the words left his mouth. He definitely loved being in that position, seeing the woman squirm and cry out in front of him, entrapped in a state of inferiority. For a long time, when he was younger, he had not understood why they had to hide when they had so numerous advantages; a so blatant superiority.

  
Kate was staring right ahead, lost in thoughts, and didn’t comment.

  
As Jim Morrison sang about music and fire —how appropriate— the woman started her car and tried to pulled back.

  
“Oh, bitch, you aren’t going anywhere,” muttered Kate, a sharp edge in her voice. Derek snorted in amusement, but he could feel a melting feeling of anticipation fill him to the brim. He pushed his foot hard on the break pedal and, to his satisfaction, the Camaro barely moved at all and continued to block the little Rabbit from escaping. Like a wolf standing in the way of its prey.

  
The woman started screaming louder and, though they could not see her fleeting expression of terror, Derek could literally smell the insidious feeling of panic taking over her, draining her from rational thinking and hope, replacing it with utter, unforgiving fear.

  
He told Kate so, and her whole body seemed to brighten and glow. Such glee in her widened eyes, like she just discovered the joy brought by a shiny new toy. She mostly looked like the monster inside her was creeping up to the surface, but her inner little girl, seeking new experiments and new adventures, was clearly visible. Derek thought her beautifully terrifying. She would make a mean, willful, powerful alpha, and he loved her for it.

  
“You should push on the gas!” Kate exclaimed, suddenly grabbing his thigh.

  
“What?” answered Derek, pulled back to the reality of the situation. The little game of mischief, in a second, extended to a whole new level of entertainment, one he was not sure he was ready for. Because, no doubt about it, Kate was absolutely, irremediably serious.

  
“We should kill her. Drop her from Mulholland. Let her crash and burn. Get with the program, Derek. You were tired of being prudent and sage, weren’t you?”

  
“Well, yes, but...”

“But what, Derek? Your trip towards ultimate freedom shouldn’t be made of demi-measures, and you shouldn’t timidly tiptoe towards your goals. You should seize the day. Or rather, the night. Let that beast in you enjoy the fresh air.”

Derek could only look at her helplessly, his heart now beating to the rhythm of fear. He was always told that werewolves, while predators, were not killers. He thought this was bullshit, he knew this was bullshit, because anyone could be a killer. There were no metaphysical moral behind things; no divine code or order, neither for humans or werewolves. One wasn’t more noble than the other. Derek had always felt this sort of wants in his guts, to not only dominate someone, but to tear them to shreds. Seems like real rabbits weren’t cutting it anymore, or he wouldn’t have followed Kate.

Yet. Yet the thought of killing an innocent woman, now, this very moment, made his stomach twist and soaked his conscience in some ugly matter.

He hated it.

Kate was in perfect harmony with her darker sides, her most terrible wants and needs. Why not him? It was not like he fancied himself a hero or a good guy in general.

“I can guarantee you...” whispered Kate seductively, moving her hand back and forth on his thigh. “...that you are going to like it. The feeling of unapologetic superiority. Look at her, Derek baby: she herself is acting like an animal.”

Indeed, the woman was thrashing in her car. Derek could hear her, breathless, emitting rash, beastly sounds of frustration and terror. Humanity left you given any occasion, it seems.

“ _Before I sink_  
 _Into the big sleep._  
 _I want to hear the scream_  
 _Of the butterfly_ ”

Damn. Even The Doors appeared to be encouraging him to just let go and do it. Let go and do it, his first murder.

Kate let out a trembling sigh, leaning towards him and kissing him on the cheek, then on the corner of his mouth, her hand still moving, gradually arousing him.  
“I feel so turned on right now... you are going to do it. We both know it. You should see yourself, Derek. You look like a natural born killer....”

Derek couldn’t help but laugh, loud and clear, excitation seizing him. He heard nervous laughter from other cars as well and realized that the dark feeling of anticipation, the desire to do wrong, was equally split in the three cars. Not only that, but they were waiting for him to take the deciding move. Everyone was.

He heard the voice of the DJ over the song.

“Just stepped outside and the flames are rising. Don’t forget to use your lotion, guys and gals.” He made an obscene sound. “Quick thought for the night: maybe we’re all cooking alive and don’t know it... so, let’s party.”

Let’s party.

The Doors were brusquely replaced by some punk music that spoke of violence and impulsions. Derek let go of the breaks and shoved his foot on the gas pedal, a sneer spreading on his face, echoing Kate’s. The Camaro lunged forward on the smaller car, a wolf sweeping down on a rabbit, immediately pushing it against the cement block that kept the cars from rolling to the doomed fall. He pushed harder on the pedal, hearing the tires spinning and the engine protesting against the effort. The rabbit almost let itself be pushed over the cement block.

The woman plunged on her door, trying to get out as soon as it was cleared, but the two other cars, obeying betas, started to roll forward, over their own cement blocks, to keep her trapped.

Kate laughed and squirmed, aroused, her heart beating fast, her lips unabashedly turned into a triumphing smile.

“Go on, only a metre or two. You can do it, baby.” she muttered to him in his ear, like a secret. She was proud of him, obviously. He thought he could have done anything for her in that very moment.

The girl tried everything: crushing her breaks, turning her wheel, honking her horn. There was no hope for her. She was now merely a tool for Kate’s pleasure and Derek’s personal advancement towards freedom.

They watched, silently, as the car was finally pushed over the edge of the cliff, falling into the night and letting Derek and Kate have a perfect view on Los Angeles, the bright, restless city of sin.

The car overturned in the blackness, crashed in great sounds of twisting metal, beat out of shape, before catching fire at some point. With an effort of imagination, Derek could hear flesh being torn, bones breaking, a skull being bashed in... He could smell the fire engulfing everything, trying to erase the remains of the grand atrocity committed. He could hear Kate’s harsh breathing, next to him, as if she had just had an orgasm. He realized that he just came in his pants. And then he laughed. And laughed. Unable to stop himself.

“Another ghastly evening in the City of Angels. In case you’re keeping score, the temperature just went up another degree... and you’re losing.” Said the DJ.

Ah? Weird. Derek had completely forgotten the heat. It downed on him, as the smell of sweat —in which both were drenched— came back in force. Time to find

another plan to forget about it.

Derek pulled back the Camaro, made a turn, and left Mulholland view area. His two accomplice followed him, curious as to what he and Kate were going to do now.

They left in the night, in the wail of sirens woken up by the dead of the rabbit, looking for new adventures.

The DJ blew in the mike. His voice went low. Soft. Mean. Like he knew something.

“Stay bad, babies... the night is young. And there’s no way out.”


End file.
